


23 – 54 kHz

by Devereauxs_Disease



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Hannibal is a dick about it, Hannibal want to go to the opera, M/M, Smut and Crack, Will not so much, but...what is that sound?, now his ass is really going alone, so...smack?, who is ruining the opera?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-09 02:05:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15257007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devereauxs_Disease/pseuds/Devereauxs_Disease
Summary: Hannibal makes plans to go to the opera for his anniversary with Will. Sadly, Will has also made anniversary plans. After a fight, both go their own way on their anniversary. Will they come back together?





	23 – 54 kHz

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chronicopheliac](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chronicopheliac/gifts).



> Another crazy work week means I'm incapable of anything but crack fiction. So...you've all been warned. 
> 
> I'd like to wish Chronic the happiest of birthdays (I know this is late, so I'm sorry!). 
> 
> Thank you, as always to Gwilbers for taking the time to read this through.

          Hannibal frowned when the small child seated next to him grabbed his hand again. The tiny thing was sticky and this was the third time he’d been assaulted by the little creature’s tacky digits. A recipe for suckling pig popped into his head, but he dismissed it quickly – Will would probably be angry if he roasted a child in the new oven.

          Of course, if Will had simply agreed to accompany him to the opera, Hannibal wouldn’t have to worry over the morality of murdering the world’s stickiest child. But, in typical Will fashion, the empath had steadfastly refused to even consider the opera as a possible outing for their anniversary. He’d rolled his eyes when Hannibal spoke of Teatro Colón, huffing with annoyance when the doctor attempted to wax poetic about it’s beauty and acoustical merits.

          “What if I made plans for our anniversary?” Will had said, tossing the tickets dismissively to the floor. Hannibal sneered.

          “We can go to the dog park in the morning.” Hannibal grabbed the tickets and laid them back on their coffee table.

          Will glared. “Fuck you.”

          “We can do that _after_ the opera.” Hannibal had attempted to lighten the mood, but Will looked genuinely stung. The empath stood and left the room.

          After a week of sullen looks and silent dinners, Hannibal had broken. He crept into the guest room only to be greeted with Will’s back. There was no way Will was asleep; the empath lay rigid in the bed barely breathing. Hannibal shut the door with a thud, but still Will wouldn’t turn.

          Hannibal was curled around Will’s back, pressing soft kisses into his bare shoulder before Will acknowledged him.

          “I’m not going with you tomorrow.” Will’s voice was loud in the dark room.

          “Please, Will.”

          “No.” Hannibal began to pull away, but was caught by Will’s hands, pulling them to settle over the smile on his stomach. “You’ve chosen your plans and I’ve chosen mine, we’ll just have to meet later.”

          “Will, I-”

          “Go to sleep Hannibal.”

          In the morning, they had made love, kissing softly and sweetly before Hannibal slipped from bed to make Will’s favorite griddle cakes with lime curd and stole citrus-tinged kisses between bites of breakfast in bed. They lounged together for a few hours, neither content to leave the confines of the bed or each other’s arms.

          But when it came time to get ready, Will made no move to get up from the bed. More distressingly, Will made no move to keep Hannibal in the bed. Hannibal found himself having trouble picking out a tie as he stewed over the idea of spending their anniversary separately.

          He returned to the guest room, red and cream floral tie draped around the neck of his dress shirt, to find Will still sprawled naked in the sheets, idly scrolling through an article on the tablet. Hannibal sighed, sitting next to Will.

          “I’ll stay home with you.” It was as close to an _I’m sorry_ as he was going to get. They had both agreed a few months after the fall that apologies for mild annoyances were meaningless in the face of guttings and cliff plunges. One could hardly beg forgiveness for leaving socks on the floor, when a pardon hadn’t been solicited for bloodshed.

          Will looked up and smiled, setting the tablet aside. Getting to his knees he took the tie in his hands and began to twist the material into a double Windsor knot.

          “You can stay home if you want, but I won’t be here. I’ve made plans, remember?” Will patted the tie softly, straightening it around Hannibal’s throat. “There, perfect.”

          “I’ll accompany you.”

          “Nah,” Will fell back onto the pillows and picked up the tablet. “You’re too fancy for the dog park.”

          Hannibal could feel the tension seeping into his neck and temples. Only Will could put a vice around him so easily. Hannibal grabbed Will’s chin, forcing eye contact. The doctor tried to look contrite. “I don’t wish to spend our anniversary alone.”

          “You won’t,” Will said with a smile. “There’s going to be lots of people at the opera.”

          Hannibal’s mouth thinned. Will had forgiven him, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be punished. He wouldn’t beg, and he certainly wouldn’t stay home and follow Will – no matter how tempting the idea was.

          “Very well,” Hannibal stood, brushing himself off. “Have a lovely evening.”

          He tried not to flinch when Will didn’t look up. He was at the door before the empath called “Happy anniversary!”

          Now, sitting next to the child with the clammy hands, and left to stare at the vacant seat to his right, Hannibal wished he’d simply followed Will. When the child attempted to play with his hand again, Hannibal looked up, trying to content himself with a view of Soldi’s frescos in the dome. But without Will to discuss themes and technique, he found the golden work rather pale. The void at his side was a near physical pull and he hated the idea that Will might not be feeling Hannibal’s absence as acutely as the doctor felt his.

          He had just about talked himself into the idea of abandoning the opera and fleeing home to fall at Will’s feet when the lights began to dim. Hopefully the music would prove a distraction.   

          It didn’t.

          The production was beautiful and Nancy Fabiola Herrera was in excellent voice, but The Italian Girl in Algiers only served to remind Hannibal of Will. He had chosen the production specifically because he thought Will would enjoy the way Rossini blended opera seria with opera buffa. The refined elegance of seria was never thought to be a good compliment to the broad comedic appeal of buffa until Rossini chose to mix the genres.

_Ugh you brought me here just for a metaphor about our relationship?_ Will would say, rolling his eyes. But he would take Hannibal’s hand in the darkened theater and squeeze it tight.

          Only…Hannibal’s hand was empty, and he found he wasn’t even paying attention to Lindoro and Elvira lament their misfortune in marriage.

          He was idly imagining where Will was when he heard it.

          An odd high-pitched noise that seemed to pierce through even the powerful vibrato of Herrera. He looked up, scanning the orchestra pit to see who would dare leave their instrument so out of tune. When the sound squealed again, Hannibal realized it wasn’t coming from the orchestra, and, oddly, no one else seemed to notice it.

          He frowned, the beautifully designed acoustics in the hall made identifying the source of the noise incredibly difficult. The fact that no one else paid any heed to the ruckus meant he had no turning heads or frowns as clues.

          Then, the little squeal began to stutter. A pattern, he realized. Listening closely, he began to pick apart the rhythm.

_Squeal, squeal, squeal_ – and then a pause – _squeal, squeal, squeal_ – another pause – _squeal, SQUEAL, squeal, squeal, squeal_

          Over and over again the pattern repeated. It was rude; it was infuriating; it was…Jingle Bells?

          Hannibal’s brow furrowed, trying to tease out who on earth would come to a world-renowned opera house only to play a Christmas carol at a pitch so high most would not note it.

          “Will,” Hannibal breathed, feeling himself smile. The child next to him shushed him with a glare. Hannibal paid the small nuisance no mind; he had a husband to find.

          Trying to be subtle, Hannibal scanned the crowd. Normally, he would find it unspeakably rude to take one’s eyes from the stage during a performance so beautiful, but Hannibal could not help himself. The noise was coming from above, but he couldn’t pinpoint from where.

          Hannibal was so focused on finding a mop of curly hair in the crowd he startled when the lights came back on. As the crowd filed into the Salón Dorado, Hannibal began to prowl the crowds. He passed by the bar, took little notice of the exquisite gold sconces that adorned the ceiling, marched under the chandeliers without once looking up.

          Convinced his Will was nowhere to be found in the salón, Hannibal moved to the stairs, to search the second floor. By the time Hannibal had searched the second and third floors, he was getting annoyed. Was Will hiding from him? Was the point just to ruin Hannibal’s evening further?

          He climbed the stairs to the fourth floor when the lights flashed and people began to move back into the theater for the second half of the show. Hannibal paused, debating whether he should move back to his seat when a loud squeal pealed from the private balcony box.

          He ran to the door and flung it open. Will was leaning against the balustrade, a small silver whistle perched between his lips. Hannibal stood in the doorway, calming his breath and examining the infuriating man before him. Will was in the black suit Hannibal had bought him last Christmas, cut tight to his body to show off every sleek line. His crisp white shirt was opened to his collarbone, hair gelled neatly away from his eyes. Hannibal found himself having trouble keeping his breathing steady in the face of such beauty.

          Will raised an eyebrow, pulling the whistle from his lips. “Your hearing is getting terrible; do you know how hard I had to blow this thing to get your attention?”

          “What is that thing?”

          “Dog whistle,” Will smiled, pocketing it. “Gets all my boys to come running, apparently.”

          Hannibal took a step forward but a hand pulled him back. He turned and was confronted with a tall, severe looking usher who informed him that the balconies were private and he needed to leave.

          “It’s alright, Ernesto,” Will said with a smile. “He’s my husband.”

          Ernesto’s hand dropped immediately, but the disapproving frown remained. “You’re late.”

          “I am,” Hannibal looked over Ernesto’s shoulder to Will. “And exceptionally sorry to have missed as much as I have of the show.”

          Will grinned.

          “Should I bring another glass of Malbec?”

          Will tilted his head to the side. “I’m not sure he’s earned it.”

          “I will.” Hannibal stalked closer to Will, a smile playing at his lips.

          Ernesto left and reappeared holding out a glass of red, still frowning at Hannibal. The doctor took the wine and thanked the usher, who sniffed and left, sealing the door behind him.

          “I don’t think he likes me,” said Hannibal, sitting the glass down before prowling toward Will.

          “I’m not sure I do either,” Will laughed. “I mean, you’d rather hold hands with some brat in the orchestra section than-”

          Hannibal pressed their lips together, pushing Will into the wall behind the velvet curtain. He tasted of expensive Malbec and something sweeter, probably those terrible fruit candies Will liked to eat simply to annoy Hannibal with his sugared breath. When they parted, sharing wet breath in the scant inches between them, Will’s eyes had gone bright and hungry in the dark.

          “These balconies were booked up two months ago, how did you get one?”

          Will lifted his chin, licking softly along Hannibal’s cupid’s bow before pulling back. “I reserved it four months ago.”

          The lights around them went out, but Hannibal could still catch the gleam of Will’s eyes and slick lips as the stage illuminated. Hannibal dove forward consuming Will’s sugary mouth.

          “Hannibal,” Will gasped, pushing at the doctor’s chest. “Hannibal the show is about to begin.”

          Hannibal smiled, dropping to his knees. “Yes, it is.”

          Will made a high noise at the back of his throat just as Mustafà began to sing about his seduction plans. Hannibal leaned forward, nuzzling at Will’s groin and inhaling deeply when the scent of arousal intensified. Will let his head fall back, hitting the wall with a dull thud, his hands found Hannibal’s hair and sank into the soft strands.

          Still rubbing at Will like a contented cat, Hannibal paused, using sharp teeth to bite Will’s thigh hard.

          Will cried out, head snapping forward and hands pushing at Hannibal’s head.

          “What the fuck was that?” Will hissed, cheeks red.

          “A warning,” Hannibal stretched his neck, allowing his stubbled chin to rub over Will’s clothed cock.

          “What warning? Take your eyes off me and I’ll take a chunk out of you?”

          In response, Hannibal simply clicked his teeth together in the open air. Will drew in a shaking breath and wrapped one hand tightly around Hannibal’s floral tie. He yanked Hannibal forward using the tie as a leash. “Get on with it, then.”

          Hannibal’s eyes were dancing when he looked up at Will. He sucked at the tip of Will’s cock through the empath’s suit pants, watching as Will bit his lips and shuddered. Will tugged on Hannibal’s tie again in silent command. Leaning forward, the doctor made quick work of Will’s belt and top button before taking his zipper between his teeth and carefully pulling it down.

          “Fuck… _fuck_ just like that,” Will was having trouble regulating his tone and Hannibal wondered just how loud he could get Will before they were banned from the opera.

          Hannibal slipped his fingers into Will’s pants, slowly lowering them to his knees. Will let his eyes fall closed as Hannibal’s breath ghosted over the wet spot on his boxer briefs. Hannibal bit Will’s hip, teeth snagging flesh and the waist of his underwear.

          “Jesus fuck, I’m looking I’m lo- _AH!_ ” Hannibal dragged the scrap of cloth down, his teeth dragging along Will’s hip and thigh as he moved. Gooseflesh broke out along Will’s thighs, he shivered at the open air hitting his cock. Hannibal huffed a breath on the head of Will’s cock, just to watch it twitch.

          Will made a high choking noise, but he kept his eyes open. Hannibal rewarded him by laving small kitten licks along the head of his cock. Four licks and then a sucking kiss to the tip, over and over again like Hannibal was devouring a popsicle. Will’s thighs began to shake.

          Using his free hand to grab Hannibal’s jaw, Will pulled the tie tight around Hannibal’s neck. “Open your fucking mouth.”

          Hannibal obeyed, letting his jaw drop and unfurling his tongue over his lower teeth. He raised his chin, in invitation. Will released Hannibal’s tie and grabbed two handfuls of Hannibal’s hair, pushing into the wet warmth of Hannibal’s mouth.

          “Fuuuuuck,” Hannibal wondered idly if Will knew his hisses had turned to yelps. He hollowed his cheeks, swallowing when Will hit the back of his throat to see if he could get a louder noise. “Take it. _Fuck_ , you take is so well.”

          Will rolled his hips, slowly fucking into Hannibal’s mouth. He bent over in pleasure, fingers digging into Hannibal’s skull. When Will’s eyes closed, Hannibal pulled back, allowing his teeth to run along Will’s shaft.

          “Ah, ah ah!” Will had a lovely tenor when he was fucking Hannibal’s mouth. The empath’s blue eyes snapped open and he met Hannibal’s amber gaze. “You want my attention so bad? Earn it.”

          Will let himself slump back against the wall, watching as Hannibal shuffled forward on his knees to reclaim his cock. The doctor ducked low, sucking a kiss onto each of Will’s balls just to hear his desperate cries at the attention. Laving at Will’s shaft, he grazed with teeth and tongue the path of every vein and line he found.

          Biting into his fist, Will muffled a few cries before Hannibal took him back down again. Gripping onto Will’s ass for leverage, Hannibal pulled the younger man forward, face-fucking himself with Will’s body. All the while, Will watched, eyes obediently on Hannibal as the man he loved worshiped him.

          When Hannibal began to deep throat him, Will had to break contact, his eyes rolling back in his head. The sensation of Hannibal swallowing around the head of his cock was too much and Will came shouting Hannibal’s name just as Herrera reached the crescendo of her aria.

          Will’s shaking hands found Hannibal’s shoulders as he came back to himself. Hannibal cleaned Will’s cock with little licks and sucks until the empath made a pleading noise at the back of his throat. Gently, Hannibal tucked Will’s cock back into his boxer briefs and set about straightening and fastening Will’s clothes.

          When Hannibal stood, Will fell into his arms, plundering the doctor’s mouth with a filthy kiss. “Happy anniversary.”

          “Happy anniversary to you, too, Will.” Hannibal pecked a small kiss onto Will’s chin before turning to face the balustrade and bowing. Will froze, before looking over the railing. In the balcony directly across from theirs sat a family of four, all with their mouths agape. Hannibal took another bow before grabbing Will’s hand in his and raising it, in a mockery of a curtain call.

          “You bastard,” Will couldn’t take his eyes away from the horrified faces of the mother and father, though he did note with some amusement the teen girl was applauding.

          “If it’s any consolation, I believe the curtain obscured much of your body, though perhaps not your lovely voice.” Hannibal squeezed Will’s hand. “That young lady is likely applauding my performance.”

          “I’m going to fucking kill you.” Will said through gritted teeth.

          “I know, dear heart, just as soon as your legs work again.” Hannibal smiled and took another bow.

* * *

 

          Hannibal heard the infernal squeal again a few weeks later, as he was chopping shallots. So loud and piercing was the noise when away from the ambient sound of the opera that Hannibal nearly lost a finger to it’s peal.

          Stomping into the living room, Hannibal found Will with the whistle against his lips, smirking.

          “I refuse to be summoned by that obnoxious-”

          “And yet, here you are.”

          Hannibal snarled. “What do you want?”

          “I was thinking, since some jackass ruined my anniversary plans for a fancy show, you, uh, want to go out next Friday?” Will slipped the dog whistle into his pocket, petting the two mutts that came scurrying in from the patio.

          “Will I be privy to the plans before we leave?”

          Will shook his head. Hannibal sighed.

          “You leave me little choice.” Hannibal bent forward to run his hand along Will’s jaw. “I’m sure whatever your plan, it shall be beyond my expectations.”

          “Who knew you liked extreme paintballing so much?” Will grinned when Hannibal rolled his eyes.

          “I’ll be sure to wear some of your clothes then,” Hannibal said, raising a brow. “So, no one will notice if they’re ruined.”

          “Hey!” Will pulled the whistle from his pocket and blew it, causing Hannibal’s eyes to narrow. “Bad cannibal! Be nice!”

          “Give me that.”

          “Get your own, I need this one for training.”

          “Will…”

          “If you’re good I’ll get you one for your birthday.” Will smiled. “Now, sit!”

          He blew the whistle again, dodging when Hannibal lunged for him and chased him into the garden.


End file.
